


Preparation and Planning

by Witchy1ness



Series: How To (Not) Raise a Ravager [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, I don't own Vrellnexians but Nex is mine, Intentionally Bad Spelling & Grammar, It's Not That Bad I Promise, all of the aliens!, mentions of teaching a child how to shoot, poor delusional Kraglin, rated T for Tons of Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: A couple months after Peter is brought aboard the Eclector, Yondu has had it with the Terran brat's shenanigans and first mate Kraglin finds himself saddled with a new responsibility.





	Preparation and Planning

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters, species, and settings are the property of Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios, and/or Disney. I'm just borrowing them :)
> 
> Nex is mine though!
> 
> Written in 2018.
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticism welcome, flames will be ignored.

_I finally had the talk with my kids. I told them that animals in the wild eat their young so they better get their shit together._  
**\- @ericonederful**

 

Two months after they'd picked up Ego’s kid, Kraglin was beginning to regret he had ever thought it’d be better to have something other than the mute shadow that had stuck to his Captain like ugly on Taserface.

The kid was a fucking _pain_ in the _ass_.

They’d wrestled a translator implant into his neck soon after he’d been brought aboard, but they didn’t exactly _need_ it at first; given that the kid did nothing but scream whenever one of the Ravagers approached him. By the time the second month rolled around, he’d calmed down enough that the Ravagers didn’t automatically finger their blaster/knives/assorted weapons the minute he came into sight. 

His first question, to Yondu, – full of skepticism, horror, and morbid fascination – of “Are you my Dad?” fortunately asked when he’d been alone with the Captain and first mate, had made Kraglin’s eyes pop out of his head and Yondu snarl so hard the kid had nearly wet himself. 

“I ain’t your daddy boy,” he’d growled, “I’m yer damn Captain, which means yer gonna do what I say, when I say it, and with no backtalk, or –“ and here he’d whistled, and the boy’s eyeballs had nearly fallen to the floor with his jaw at the arrow hovering in the air in front of him. 

Later, he’d worked up the nerve to ask Kraglin, “If Yondu isn’t my Dad – and none of you are – then why did you kidnap me?”

Kraglin had rolled his eyes. While there were many members of the crew who’d grumbled at the loss of payout from not delivering the kid to Ego, they’d kept their lips sealed in front of the kid. 

“Cause the Captain thinks you’ll be good fer thievin’,” was the blunt response, repeating said Captain’s declaration on the moment the scrawny little brat had been brought aboard. 

The kid’s immediate response of, “But it’s wrong to steal!” said, regrettably, in the middle of the mess hall, had set every Ravager within earshot howling. 

He’d picked up the polyglot that was the Ravager’s language fairly quickly – turned out he’d actually been listening while doing his impression of a screaming mute; which they had initially considered a relief. Now, a month after the kid had first started talking, he _never. Shut. Up._ If he wasn’t demanding to be taken back home, he was calling them every name he could come up with. 

Repeated threats of eating him would keep him quiet for only a little while before he went back to trying to pick fights with the crew; only to scramble into any one of the dozens of hiding places he'd scoped out when they tried to retaliate. He kept stealing food from the mess, and unattended items were fair game – and even if he raged and swore on discovering another of his trinkets had gone missing, Yondu seemed suspiciously pleased every time it happened. Kraglin figured it was because every time the kid did so, it was driving home the point the Captain kept making about him being good to keep around for thieving.

Early on, the boy had tried to threaten the Captain into taking him back home by brandishing a length of pipe he’d pilfered from somewhere – Yondu had merely laughed and backhanded him before whistling his yaka arrow after him until the kid had dropped. After that, the brat had taken to ambushing the others instead and contenting himself with hollering invective at Yondu from the dubious safety of the _Elector_ ’s innards. 

It didn’t take long for Yondu to have had it – with both the kid’s bitching and the crew’s complaining – and had ordered Kraglin to drag the boy’s ass out of the pipeworks by any means necessary. 

“If’n his common sense ain’t gonna help him see how to make the best outta this here situation, then my damn boot up his backside will!”

“Yes _sir_!”

The first mate couldn’t help the savage grin that swept across his face as he saluted. 

_‘Bout fucking time. If’n he’d waited any longer, the crew’d start mutterin’ he was bein’ soft on the little bastard._

Despite still being new enough to his role of second-in-command that the authority didn’t sit quite comfortably yet, Kraglin didn’t hesitate.

“Huhtar, Oblo, Tullk; yer with me. The rest of ya, make some noise and get his attention.”

With the Hurctarian’s implants, it was a simple matter of walking around and scanning the walls until the kid’s heat signature was detected. This, on a ship the _Elector_ ’s size – and shape, given that there weren’t exactly any blueprints – could have taken several shifts; if not for the fact that Terrans were apparently creatures of habit and as a result the kid never seemed to move too far from the most highly trafficked sections of the ship. 

Kraglin grinned again when Huhtar soon rumbled, “Found him. How’dya wanna get him out?”

He jerked his head at a crewmember standing to the side. “Tullk, yer up.”

The man snorted – Tullk was one of the crew who believed they should still hand Peter over to Ego – but he stepped forward anyway, angling his head so that his voice would travel further into the pipes. They weren’t sure why, but the former mercenary was one of the few Ravagers the kid hardly ever targeted for insults.

“You listening, you little pain in the ass? It’s Tullk. We wanna make you a deal.”

He fell silent, the Ravagers waiting for a reply. It took several minutes, but eventually a sarcastic, “What, you’ll eat me fast instead of slow?” came echoing hollowly from the duct. 

Tullk glanced at Kraglin, who gritted his teeth and kept his hand away from his blaster as the others muttered. 

Tullk looked back up. “That’s one option,” he drawled laconically. 

Kraglin sighed and stepped closer. As much as he hated to think about it, he wasn’t that much older than the kid, and every time the brat ambushed him he didn’t get the feeling that the kid _really_ hated him. 

_Least, not like he hates the Captain._

“’Ey, uh, Peter? It’s Kraglin.”

Silence.

Kraglin clenched his teeth and plowed forward. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to coax the kid out of the ducts, but he’d have to make sure the others kept their lips sealed about his method; he did _not_ want it to get out.

“Hey, look, the Captain wants to talk to ya. So can ya – “ and here he choked, “ – _please_ come out?”

The other three Ravagers wore identical scowls, but Kraglin ignored them. At this point, if stripping naked and doing a Xandarian snail mating ritual would get the kid out, he’d order the other Ravagers to get to it. 

“You promise no one will touch me?” there’s a healthy dose of suspicion in the tone, which Kraglin heartily approved of.

“I promise,” he says without batting an eye, gesturing with his head for Oblo and Tullk to position themselves to either side of the duct.

More silence. 

_Right. Fuck bein’ nice._

“Pete, you don’t get your scrawny little ass out here in the next few ticks, and not only am I gonna get the Captain to _whistle_ your ass out, but he’ll slather you in gravy and stake you out for the Orloni to nibble on, got it?”

 _That_ got him moving, finally. One dirt and grease-smeared arm appeared, and Tullk grabbed it and hauled the rest of the kid out easily. Unfortunately, the kid used the momentum to push off from the wall once he got a foot out; and Kraglin’s not sure how but suddenly Tullk’s rocking backwards and cursing, hand flying up to his face while Huhtar and Oblo scramble to grab the brat, who’s screaming and hollering his damn lungs out. Oblo finally manages to subdue the kid by the simple expedient of thumping him hard enough to daze him before slapping restraints around his arms and legs and tossing him over his shoulder hard enough to wring an _oof_ from the kid. 

Despite wanting to wring the kid’s scrawny neck with his bare hands, the first mate could appreciate the fight he put up – Tullk’s nose was busted for sure, and the others had bleeding scratches on their arms or faces. 

The brat’s quiet while he struggles to draw air back in, so Kraglin makes sure to set a jarring pace back to the bridge; hopefully the repeated insertions of Oblo’s shoulder into the kid’s gut will _keep_ him quiet. 

He’s not entirely successful.

“You promised – no one – would touch me!”

Kraglin rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to respond.

_Are all Terrans this gullible, or is it just him?_

By the time they get back to the bridge, it’s been cleared of everyone except those on duty and Yondu, who’s waiting with crossed arms and a ruby glare. Oblo dumps the kid and – stupidly – takes off the restraints.

The kid is up on his feet almost instantly, arms flailing. Afterwards, Kraglin never could quite figure out what the kid had meant to do – if he was lunging to get away from the Ravagers, or if he was actually going after Yondu. But watching from off to the side, he caught the glint of the blade in the boy’s hand as he lashed out.

Everything went into slow motion: he could see the dawning horror on the kid’s face as the self-made shank slipped from his fingers – the slow end-over-end tumble as it flew through the air – the look of ‘for fuck’s _sake_ ’ on Yondu's face as he pursed his lips to whistle – and then Kraglin watched in shock as the blade smacks flat-side on against his own leg before falling to the floor with a clatter. 

The bridge crew was dead silent as Kraglin's gaze traveled slowly from the knife on the floor at his feet, to the kid standing to his right nearly four feet away, Yondu’s arrow at his throat; and then slowly over to his Captain.... who had been standing diagonally two feet away from him. 

"....where th'hell were you aimin’ that, boy?"

Yondu’s voice was a low growl, the look on his face now one of complete and total disgust.

Pete's face had gone stark white under the dirt and grease, and though his mouth moved no sound came out. 

Yondu narrowed his gaze. He walked over and plucked the blade from the floor before advancing on the still frozen Terran, whistling his arrow back into its holster. 

Peter managed a squeak and started to frantically backpedal, but his arm was grabbed in an iron grip that began towing him towards Kraglin.

Who managed a questioning "Captain?"

Yondu ignored him to shout to Gef. 

“Find me a place nearby with no Nova Corps. We’re still stocked up, so I wanna go planet-side for a bit. Kid's gonna be as useful as tits on my ass if'n he can't aim worth shit. I’mma take him down and teach him until the shit-head can hit the broadside of a fuckin' planet.”

“Yes Captain!”

Kraglin fought down a surprising spurt of jealousy. As far as he knew, _he_ was the only one on the current crew Yondu had ever bothered teaching before.

Peter found his voice, some of the rampant hostility giving way to disbelief and excitement. "You’re gonna give me a _gun_?!"

"Fuck no!" Yondu barked as Kraglin could only stare, and the kid’s face slid from excited to surly, hate surging back to the forefront of his gaze. 

“Think I’d trust your ass not to shoot me in the back? You don’t get to _keep_ a blaster until you’ve _earned_ it. And since you got so much energy, you’re gonna learn how to fight, too.”

“My mom says fighting is bad,” was obviously an automatic response, as the kid’s face immediately pinched the minute the words left his mouth.

Yondu didn’t bat an eye. 

“Well your Mama ain’t here, and no one ever said Ravagers is good people, boy. And we ain’t takin’ you back to Terra, ever, so get that through your thick little skull right this minute, ya hear?”

Kraglin wasn’t sure if the drop of the kid’s head was supposed to be in defeat or agreement, but Yondu took it as the latter and continued.

“Good. Now, you are gonna start listenin’ and stop this fuckin’ around – “ he loomed over the boy, using his greater size to intimidate as he bared his teeth in a parody of a grin, “ – or we are gonna be havin’ Terran for supper, understand?”

Kraglin half-expected the boy’s eyes to pop out of his head as he audibly gulped, “Yes!”

Apparently Yondu was scarier than the rest of the crew – which was only right, but Kraglin made a mental note of the boy’s reaction for future use. 

Yondu cuffed him. “Best idea you’ve had yet, boy. Now, git yer ass movin’; Kraglin’s gonna get you outfitted, and you are gonna do _exactly_ as he tells ya, and if you don’t, it’ll be the pot for you. Got it?”

Another frantic nod was the kid’s only response.

And that was how Kraglin found himself making his way to less-frequented parts of the ship, one hand clamped onto a skinny little shoulder as he all but marched the boy in front of him, their Captain’s orders ringing in his ears. 

_Get the little bastard cleaned up; looks more like a damn Orloni than a proper Ravager._

“I can clean myself!” the brat blurted out when Kraglin finally released him in the communal shower area. 

“Damn right you are,” he said flatly, “I ain’t no fuckin’ nanny. But I _am_ gonna stay here and watch, so don’t go gettin’ any funny ideas about scamperin’ off, brat.” 

He patted the blaster on his hip, expression dark. 

“ _I_ don’t miss.” 

It was gratifying to see the terror flash across the kid’s face, but Kraglin had to allow a smidgen of grudging acceptance when he threw back, “My name ain’t brat! Or boy! It’s Peter!”

“Well, _Pete_ , you got two minutes to get to cleaning afore I inform the Captain you ain’t followin’ orders.”

The boy stopped, caught mid-way through getting out of his shirt. “You’d narc on me for _that_?” he asked incredulously.

Kraglin frowned at the unfamiliar term, causing the boy to shake his head. “Never mind,” he muttered. 

To the Ravager’s amusement, the kid held on to his clothes once he’d finished stripping, standing small and naked in the middle of the room. Kraglin eyed him speculatively; he looked pretty similar in anatomy to a Xandarian, though maybe scrawnier than when they’d picked him up.

“Where are your towels and soap and stuff?”

“Cleanin’ supplies are in the drawers to yer left. Make sure to lock ‘em when you close ‘em. You can keep what you take, but you’re responsible for your own laundry,” he replied shortly.

“Which stuff is safe for me to use? Is it okay to get the translator wet? And I don’t know how to do laundry.” The muttered words sounded like they’d be forcibly yanked from the kid’s throat, and Kraglin swore under his breath as he grabbed a cleanser pod and tossed it at the kid.

_Well, ain’t we a spoiled dirt princess._

“Here, this shouldn’t bother ya. And yeah, it’ll be fine. An’ guess I’ll show ya how to do laundry later.”

Fortunately, the kid figured out the showers pretty quick, but took so long to wash up they’d actually jumped twice before he came out. He looked even paler with all the dirt and grease scrubbed off. 

“Didja have a nice time?” Kraglin deadpanned, and then snapped “Don’t put those back on,” as the kid reached for his clothes, causing a mutinous expression to cross the boy’s face.

“I don’t _have_ anything else, dickweed!” 

Another unfamiliar term, but the Ravager understood the intent if not the actual word and glowered until the kid shrank back. 

“Captain said to get you cleaned up, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Ya can put your underwear an’ your shoes back on, but pick up the rest of yer clothes an’ follow me.”

“I can’t go out there in my _underwear_!” the brat blurted, jaw dropping.

Kraglin lost the remainder of his patience. “Ya can either go out there in your underwear, _or in nothin’ at all_! Now _move it_!”

The kid sucked in a sharp breath and frantically wrapped the towel back around his waist before grabbing his clothes as the Ravager turned and strode out of the room.

He didn’t bother slowing down, forcing the brat to nearly run to keep up with his longer strides, having to juggle not dropping his clothes or the towel at the same time. 

They finally reached the common stores, and Kraglin angrily pointed at a corner. “Stand there, an’ _don’t_ move,” he said curtly.

Surprisingly, the kid did so without complaint, though the first mate could hear him sniffling as he fought to not cry.

Kraglin ignored him as he dug through piles of footwear to find a pair of boots that looked like they might fit. He scanned the piles of cast-off garments that the Ravagers typically wore under their leathers and managed to snag a couple shirts that had obviously been tossed after getting shrunk.

Next was wading through the discarded leathers. Fortunately, Terran anatomy with its two-arms-two-legs-and-one head design wasn’t unusual, so their tailor shouldn’t have a problem; it was just finding something that had enough good material left that it could be cut down to size. 

Eventually, he found two sets of leathers that were in decent enough shape. He had the kid pull on one of the shirts and switch into the boots, rolling his eyes when reaching for the cast-offs got him a glare and the items snatched back and bundled into the towel. 

Kraglin didn’t bother pushing the issue, motioning instead for the kid to follow him down a short set of corridors, ending up in an apparent dead end. 

“’Ey Nex!” 

Kraglin grinned at the kid’s yelp as the Vrellnexian popped his head out of a suddenly visible doorway, his mandibles twitching in the way that indicated a query. 

“Captain wants this one kitted out. Think you can whip somethin’ up fer him outta these?” 

He didn’t understand whatever it was the Vrellnexian chittered back at him, but it must have been agreement because he skittered out into the hallway, one arm reaching out for the leathers Kraglin was holding while the other three grabbed the kid.

“Don’t scream,” Kraglin warned, hearing the sharp inhale. “Nex ain’t gonna hurt ya; he’s just gonna take a look so he can fit ya properly. Unless you do scream; then he might jus’ eat ya.”

The kid’s eyes were as wide as the Vrellnexian’s. “What _is_ he?”

“Vrellnexian. They don’t usually go rogue, but Nex here is…different.”

The kid yelped again when Nex grabbed his towel bundle, holding him still with his upper limbs while the lower held the leathers up and made alteration marks on them. He was finished in a flash and had the kid holding his clothes again before he could blink. 

He stared after Nex as the Vrellnexian disappeared back into the dark room, craning his neck but otherwise not budging from his spot. 

“Now what?”

Kraglin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Now we wait. Shouldn’t take Nex long to whip something up.”

And it didn’t. The kid had just worked up enough nerve to explore the hallway when Nex returned, making him jump. 

He presented both sets of leathers to the kid, clearly proud. Kraglin snorted at the polite “Thank you,” earning himself a scowl that slid off him like water. 

The two Ravagers watched as their newest member wriggled into his new leathers and boots, struggling a little with the buckles. Kraglin rolled his eyes but kept silent when he noticed the utility belt and knife sheath. 

He ran an assessing eye up and down the kid once he’d finished. “There. At least you _look_ like a Ravager.” He nodded to Nex before setting off back down the halls, heading towards the hangar.

“And so long as you listen, ya might even live long enough to _be_ one; so you better make damn sure you listen, got it?”

“Never said I would,” the kid challenged him, causing Kraglin to halt and scowl at him. 

“The hell you didn’t –“

“ _Yondu_ said I was gonna listen and stop – stop fucking around, and then he asked if I understood. I said yes. Like, I understood him, but I didn’t _agree_. And then he said you were gonna get me outfitted and I had to do exactly what you said; you did and I did, and now it’s done and I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” 

The kid graced him with the smuggest shit-eating grin Kraglin had ever seen. 

Stunned, he could only stare after Peter as he clambered up some nearby pipes and disappeared back into the innards of the _Eclector_.

“Pete – if you ain’t in the hangar when Yondu wants to leave –“

“I’ll get there faster this way,” came the tinny response, “I know a short-cut!”

It wasn’t until the ringing echoes of his movements died away that Kraglin moved. As he staggered against the wall, doubled-over and laughing until his sides ached, he spared a fleeting thought for how Yondu was going to react when told of this latest development.

“Fuck I hope he don’t kill me,” he muttered fervently to himself. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Pete would be on his best behavior while planet-side; he remembered the look on the kid’s face when Yondu had laid down the law. But once the kid was back on the ship? All bets were off. Even the threat of eating him might not be enough to keep him in line. 

_Hope the Captain’s got a back-up plan. Though I guess there’s always his arrow._

With a sigh, he eventually hauled his lanky form upright. No sense in delaying the inevitable, and the longer he took to report back the more suspicious Yondu would get. 

_Hell, Pete might just make a decent Ravager yet,_ he mused as he made his way through the ship, but then grimaced. _Provided the crew lets ‘im live that long…._

Immediately cheered by the thought of soon being able to wash his hands of the whole ordeal, he began whistling tunelessly as he made his way back to the bridge. 

_Guess that’ll be the Captain’s problem._

**Author's Note:**

> So 'blame' this all on star1wisher, whose comment on my story "Life Lessons" unleashed a horde of plot spacebunnies that turned that stand-alone story into a series. Life Lessons will become Part 2, I have parts 4 and 5 finished, and am working on part 3 (because why write in order?). 
> 
> Plus there may be a couple companion scenes. Possibly.


End file.
